


Say Something

by Amy_de_lABC



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_de_lABC/pseuds/Amy_de_lABC
Summary: In the arms of the angel, fly away from here,From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear.You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverieYou’re in the arms of the angel. May you find some comfort here.





	Say Something

**Author's Note:**

> A/N & Disclaimer: The song medley used was created as a tribute to Operation Underground Railroad, an organization whose mission is to rescue children from sex trafficking. The fanfiction has nothing to do with this. I have no affiliation with either GENTRI or O.U.R., nor do I own either of the songs used. I also don’t own “Supernatural” or anything involved.

**Say Something**

It was always supposed to end like this. You’d known that all your life, from the very moment you had found out that more things existed in the world than humans…and that those things tended to want to kill the creatures that weren’t as powerful as they were.

But despite your understanding of this fact, it was a little hard to accept that you were going to die. Not so much because you were leaving life—to be honest, hunting often wasn’t much of a life to begin with—but because you were leaving the people you loved most in the world.

The fight had been quick and brutal. It hadn’t been so much that the demons had outnumbered you—though they had—but the fact that they were working with angels had severely crippled your side of the altercation. None of you had predicted that. Not Sam, who had been researching the case for days. Not Dean, who often had an instinct for these things. Not Cas, whose siblings they were and who knew them best, who had wanted to spare their lives if he could. And not you, who had thought you were an expert on demons, but who had clearly missed something here.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth when it was all over, when Cas had tried to heal you and hadn’t been able to because of some curse by one of the demons. When you lay there gasping through the pain, watching the three of them—your family—crowd around you.

“What? Y/N, why would you be sorry?” Sam stared at you with those puppy eyes of his, the ones that had convinced you to do all kinds of things for him in the past, from researching when you didn’t feel like it to making food runs. It had never taken much besides a look from those pleading eyes before you cracked, and he’d always used this to good advantage—though never, of course, to make you do anything you honestly didn’t want to.

“I should’ve…known…they were up to something…” you replied, voice strained, having to pause every few words to breathe. “They weren’t…acting like normal…demons.”

“You couldn’t’ve known that,” argued Dean, stiff and still as he looked down at you, his slightly trembling hand placed so gently on your shoulder, in an attempt to both comfort you and reassure himself that you were there. You remembered extending that same gesture to him when you’d first met, when he’d seemed upset. And you remembered how over time, your friendship had evolved, until you thought nothing of flying over to give him a hug when you finished with a successful hunt, or retreating to his arms when everything was wrong with the world and you couldn’t keep back the tears any longer.

You tried to shake your head, but quickly stopped, as it hurt too much. “I should have…though. All those things…we thought were weird…and I’m the one who’s…hunted demons my whole…life—” You were cut off by a fit of coughing, trying not to whimper as each hacking exhalation jarred your many injuries, and blood left your mouth to stain your fingers bright crimson.

“But you don’t know angels as well,” Sam pointed out when you finished, one of his large hands coming up to stroke your hair softly, to help you feel a little better.

“But I do.” Cas’ voice was even lower and more gravelly than usual, his face like stone. “ _I_ do, and I should have known.”

“No. Cas, you—if I’m…not to blame…then neither are you.” You frowned at the angel, who was staying further away than either of the others. You wanted to beckon him closer, to beg him not to avoid you in your last minutes on Earth. But some part of you, the self-conscious part, worried that maybe you’d done something wrong, or that he was angry at you, or that he simply didn’t care about you like you had thought he did. Of course you knew that was silly, because although his sometimes-rigid manner had taken some getting used to, the longer you had known each other, the closer you had become. And as the two of you had gotten better acquainted, he had softened toward you, the same as he had with the Winchesters, until he hardly ever acted like…well, like _this_ anymore. You knew he had some affection for you, had seen it in the way he would smile at you when the two of you talked, the way you could occasionally make him laugh by indulging your shared love of puns, the genuine warmth in the hugs you gave one another.

But it was sometimes hard for you to remember that he cared, especially when he acted like this. And if you were honest with yourself, your unvoiced feelings for him made you more sensitive to his behavior than to that of the others. If Dean shouted at you, or Sam avoided you, you knew it was often because they were sad or worried. But when Cas went all angel-soldier…it hurt, even though you tried to stop it, tried to tell yourself it was his way of dealing with more emotion than he was used to handling.

So the way he was staying away from you now, when you were about to die, when this might be your last chance to see him, to touch him, was hard for you to stomach.

* * *

As a soldier for the ranks of Heaven, Castiel had seen awful things. Death had followed him like a dark cloud where he had fought, manifesting in an uncountable number of ways.

But the sight of you with your insides spilling out over the dirty carpet of a room in some nameless motel made all the other horrors he’d borne witness to seem to shrink into insignificance.

He had tried to heal you. Tried so hard it hurt, so hard his Grace had swirled and tumbled inside him like a storm. But it had been to no avail, and now you were lying in front of him with Death again at his back, ready to scoop you up and take you away.

Away from him. 

_Say something, I’m giving up on you._  
_I’ll be the one if you want me to._  
_Anywhere I would’ve followed you.  
_ _Say something, I’m giving up on you._

He couldn’t help but feel he was hanging on by a thread as he watched you absolve him from blame. He wasn’t sure what it was he’d do if that thread broke. But he wanted to spare you the sight of it, of whatever pain he would show, whatever anguish would break free of his control. You were hurting enough as it was. You didn’t need to bear his burden on top of it all. And he knew you well enough to know that that was exactly what you would try to do, if you were aware of what he was feeling.

His feelings. They were strange at times, indecipherable, bewildering. Especially when it came to you. He’d learned to recognize much of what he felt for Dean and Sam. Brotherly love, respect, admiration, protectiveness. He knew they were his family, and that he would do anything for them.

But with you…it was something else. Many of the emotions were the same. But there were other layers there, ones that seemed different somehow. There was the same kind of interest he’d felt in April, for one. The kind where your touch made him shiver, caused his heart to pound and his breath to come short and fast. And there was a concern for your happiness that exceeded even what he had for the Winchesters. An awareness of everything about you that made him cover you with a blanket when you shivered in your sleep, or heal you immediately after a run-in with a monster, or go to get food if he heard your stomach growl. And there was the empathy that he had for you, the way he seemed to share your emotions. When you smiled, he smiled, and when you cried, he felt something inside of him break.

These and so many more things were in his head, in his heart for you. And although he was all but certain he had finally figured out what they meant, he hadn’t told you—hadn’t wanted to bring it up until he was positive. A declaration of love wasn’t something he could go back on, he was sure. After all, if you felt anything like these things for him, and he told you he loved you, and then he was wrong…that would hurt you. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

So he had kept the idea of _love_ locked inside, even when it had seemed he had to tell you, had to say something or it would burst out of him.

He had kept it to himself, and now it might be too late. 

_And I am feeling so small.  
__It was over my head. I know nothing at all.  
__And I will stumble and fall.  
__I’m still learning to love, just starting to crawl._  

He couldn’t help but blame himself, despite what you had told him. If he hadn’t underestimated his siblings…if he had known them better, or been less trusting… He knew that had always been one of his greatest weaknesses, although it was hard to see it as a weakness sometimes. Trust was a good thing, wasn’t it? He had always been someone who wanted to believe in the essential goodness of others, whether angel or human. There were so many out there who _were_ good, who honestly wanted to be good. And how could anyone be happy if they went through their existence thinking everyone was out to get them? But at the same time, his experiences with Metatron, with April, with Zachariah, and others… His tendency to give second chances had landed him in trouble so many times, and yet he kept falling prey to it, over and over. And what was worse, it had never affected just him. He had hurt so many through his poor decisions. And now you were added to that list.

The fight played in front of his unseeing eyes again. He had been engaging with a demon, palm to its forehead, ready to smite. Then the next thing he knew, your scream had pierced him as the blade had pierced you, and he’d heard another demon chant quick words that chilled him to the bone as he had turned from the one he had been about to kill, ready to move to your side and protect you from whatever harm had been done.

He’d taken a hit then, distracted as he had been from the first demon. Its weapon had sliced into his ribcage, and he’d been forced to turn back and smite the creature before it did any more damage. Sam and Dean had also been quick to kill their opponents, and by the time the white light of his Grace had faded, the battle had been over. But he couldn’t stop thinking that if only he’d been quicker, or less ready to allow his rogue brother to live when he had appeared in the room right in front of Cas…if he had just done _something_ better, just one thing, then you might not be where you were now.

Dying.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you._  
_I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you._  
_Anywhere I would’ve followed you.  
_ _Say something, I’m giving up on you._

Another coughing fit shook you, and you couldn’t help making a small noise this time at the sensation of ripping, tearing agony it caused. Immediately, both Sam and Dean were closer, Sam stroking your hair again and Dean’s hand moving to hold yours. You gripped it tight, needing the support. and, as soon as you could breathe again, looked up at Cas. He was staring at you now, his face still unreadable. But you thought you could see pain in his eyes, and it was that—his pain more than yours—that prompted you to reach out your free hand to him.

“Cas…” you breathed, your voice weak now.

His breath seemed to catch, and his eyes shuttered for a second before he gave in, moving to take his place beside Sam, beside _you_ , and taking your hand in his.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he responded, soft and low, and you gave him a tiny smile.

“It’s okay, Cas. I understand.”

He shook his head. “No, you—you don’t understand. There’s something I didn’t tell you, something I should have said a long time ago.”

You frowned, tilting your head slightly in invitation, a gesture you had picked up from him. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. Then two. And then he closed his eyes. “Y/N, I…I think…I think I love you.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your mouth dropping slightly open. Out of all the things he could have said, that had been as far away from expected as it was possible to be. And you had no idea how to respond.

“R-really?” you croaked at last, and could have kicked yourself. You were _dying_ , you reminded yourself harshly. You had so little time left, how little you didn’t even know, and here you were wasting time on disbelief. And yet it _was_ disbelief that filled you. Cas loved you? Castiel, the Angel of the Lord, was not only in love with a human, but that human was _you_? Surely it was too much to ask. Maybe he just meant he loved you like a sister. And yet…

Cas was nodding, his eyes fixed on your face. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, and maybe it was that that told you what you needed to know, or maybe it was the look on his face—one of mingled longing and fear.

He loved you.

He really loved you.

“Oh,” you breathed weakly, and, taking in a trembling breath, you held your arms out to him, and he scooped you up and cradled you against him.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he murmured, holding you as close as he could without hurting you, and as you clung to him, everything disappeared—everything but him. All your worries and fears, all your pain…everything.

Everything except, as you opened your eyes, the little girl—the Reaper—who now stood before you, her small hand reaching out for you to take.

_In the arms of the angel, fly away from here,_  
_From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear._  
_You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie  
_ _You’re in the arms of the angel. May you find some comfort here._

“Come on, Y/N,” she said, in a soft, high-pitched voice. “It’s time.”

You shook your head and held on more tightly to Cas. “No. Not yet.”

“Y/N?” It was Sam, his eyes wide with fear. “Who are you talking to?”

“What are you looking at?” added Dean, his eyes searching the area where your gaze was fixed, but clearly finding nothing.

“There’s a girl,” you replied, and your voice wobbled just slightly as you added, “A Reaper. She wants me to come with her.”

“ _No!_ ” That was Cas, his face suffused with anguish, and he had turned now so that he could see the Reaper too—and it was obvious he _could_ see her, because his look was directly on her. “You can’t have her.”

“I’m sorry, Castiel,” the girl said, her tone oddly gentle for a child her age. “But you know that’s why I’m here. You know it’s her time.”

“No,” protested Cas again, this time in a whisper, and clutched you more tightly still. “No. _Please_.” And somehow, his objections just made you that much more reconciled to the facts.

“Cas,” you said softly, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, the expression in his eyes one of utter agony. You felt a pang at that, wincing as your stomach rolled. You _hated_ it when he was unhappy, and this…this was worse than you had ever seen him. But the calm resignation that had come from seemingly nowhere—or perhaps it was a part of the Reaper’s powers—persisted. “Cas,” you repeated, and he shook his head, as if he was able to tell what you were going to say. You continued anyway. “She’s right. I…I have to go.” It hurt to say it, but at the same time there was a sense of relief, as if you were giving in, not to the inevitable, but to something that would be better for everyone in the long run, no matter how much pain it caused now.

“Y/N…” Cas’ voice was thick now, as if he was on the verge of tears, and, looking at him, you could see that he was. You had never seen him like this before, and another throb shot through you—not physically, but emotionally. But you held firm.

“Cas, it’s okay,” you told him quietly. “Look, I…I don’t want to leave you. The _last_ thing I want is to leave you. But…it _is_ my time. And I’ll be happy in Heaven. I’ll be okay. I can see my family again…” The thought of that made you choke up, and you had to take a moment before you could continue. “I’ll get Ash to help me.” The boys had told you what Heaven was like, and you had known Ash from the Roadhouse, so you were sure he would pop in to visit you when you got there.

Cas, however, just stared at you. You supposed it was a good sign that he didn’t argue this time.

You turned to Sam and Dean, swallowing, and held out a hand to each of them. “Guys…it’s been great,” you said, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. “I…” It was difficult to say, but you managed it. “I love you both. You’re my family.” You bit your lip. “I hope you know that.”

“Of course we do, Y/N,” replied Sam, his voice just as clogged as everyone else’s was. “You’re our family, too.”

Dean nodded in agreement, and then added quietly, “Y/N…there’s gotta be something we can do. You can’t just…” He trailed off, apparently unable to say the word. You shook your head, but before you could speak, Sam gave Dean a look. It was one of apology, but also acceptance, and it made Dean subside. Instead of arguing further, he just leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hair, closing his eyes. You closed your own, and then rested a hand briefly on his cheek, wiping away the single tear that had escaped. Then you turned to Sam and squeezed his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to Sam and Dean, then looked at the Reaper. “Alright,” you said, and reached for her outstretched hand. 

_Say something, I’m giving up on you._  
_(In the arms of the angel_ _…_ _)_  
_I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you._  
_(Fly away from here.)_  
_Anywhere I would’ve followed you._  
_(You are pulled from the wreckage_ _…_ _)  
_ _Say something, I’m giving up on you._

“Wait!” It was Cas who spoke, and you looked at him with grief.

“Cas…I have to…”

He nodded. “I know,” he whispered, tears standing in his eyes. “I—I know. But…at least let me take you. You don’t need her.” He gestured towards the Reaper.

For a second, you were startled. Then you demanded, “Can you _do_ that?”

“Yes.” He looked at you pleadingly. “I’m an angel. We can escort someone to Heaven just as a Reaper can.”

You thought about that. The idea was an appealing one. Instead of taking your first steps to Heaven with a stranger, you would be with Cas, whom you knew. Whom you loved.

And yet…

“No.” Your voice was barely audible, and you had to clear your throat and try again. “No… Cas, you’re hunted in Heaven. Half your brothers and sisters still want to hurt you. If you go now…you could get killed.” The very thought made your lungs seize up with panic, and you put your arms back around him.

“Y/N…if I can take you…” He shook his head, though his own arms held you tightly to him in return. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you?”

You nodded, leaning your head against him. “Of course it would. But Cas, we can’t risk your getting killed just to make things _easier_ for me.”

“But…” he started, and you put a finger to his lips, smiling wearily at him.

“No, Cas. It’ll be okay. _I’ll_ be okay. And I _do_ expect you to come and visit me, once things settle down. Once you’re not hunted. I can wait until then. I’ll have all the time in the world.”

He was silent for a time, radiating hurt and fear until all you wanted was to stay with him forever. But you knew you couldn’t, and at last he nodded. “Alright,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Alright.”

You took a breath. Now that he had agreed, terror of your own was beginning to set in, but you steadfastly ignored it. “Thank you,” you said softly, looking up at him with gentle eyes and reaching up to caress his cheek, your arm seeming heavier all the time. Glancing at the Reaper, you swallowed. “There’s only one more thing I have to say,” you addressed her, and she nodded.

“Go ahead, then.”

“Cas…” He looked at you, and you held his blue eyes with your own for a moment, taking in the way they looked, the way his face looked, to carry with you until you saw him again. You turned your gaze to Sam and Dean for a long moment, giving them an apologetic expression of farewell, and they both smiled at you, though Sam sniffed suspiciously and Dean was biting his lip so hard it bled. Then you turned back to Cas. “I love you,” you said, and tugged on the back of his neck with your waning strength, until he bent and kissed you softly. You kissed back as well as you could, and there was a moment, just one endless moment, when you were perfectly, blissfully happy.

And then the kiss ended, and with one last look to them all, you closed your eyes and slipped out of your body, taking the little girl’s hand and beginning your journey towards Heaven.

And back on Earth, in that dark, cold, nameless motel room, Cas cradled the shell you had left behind in his arms, silent tears sliding down his cheeks, and whispered into your ear, “Say something…”

But you weren't there.

_Say something_ _…_  
_I’m giving up on you.  
_ _I’m giving up on you._


End file.
